


Feel Better?

by DaughterofElros



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:06:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24988021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaughterofElros/pseuds/DaughterofElros
Summary: Short Drabble written for the prompt: Feel Better.Depicts questionable anger management skills, and entirely too much knowledge of the recycling landscape in real-world Roswell.
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 7
Kudos: 68





	Feel Better?

Feel Better?

The wrench clatters dramatically into the mostly-stripped frame of an old junker on the other side of the yard. Another one follows a moment later, as Michael snatches it from the toolbench and hurls it away as well, chest heaving and curls glinting wildly in the sunlight.

Alex stands placidly, arms crossed loosely over his chest, wind ruffling the sleeves of his plaid shirt.

“Feel better?” He asks blandly.

“No!” Michael bites out, voice savage and eyes flashing.

“Are you ready to talk constructively about this new information, or do you need to throw some more things?” Alex’s tone is entirely reasonable, like he’s remarking on the weather, which makes Michael narrow his eyes and snatch an empty beer bottle from the table and hurl it into the recycling bin where it shatters impressively over the tin cans already lining the bottom.

He snatches up more of them, chucking each one into the bin with a satisfying smash. 

Alex isn’t about to stop him. The place is a mess of beer bottles and beer cans, all empty and scattered about. Alex sees at least one bottle of nail polish remover too. Rage cleaning is still cleaning, and this place could definitely use it.

As Michael sets his jaw and grabs another few bottles, Alex picks up the ones from the table behind him and holds them out wordlessly to Michael, who glares and snatches them from his hands, smashing them into the bin as well. Rinse and repeat a few times, until Michael has mostly worked it out of his system.

Alex carries his last bottle over and looks consideringly at the mess of broken glass that almost buried the handful of cans now.

“Well,” he assesses, “this is a hell of an argument for why we should get commingled recycling out here.”

Michael stares at him and just...starts laughing.

It shouldn’t be funny. 

They’re going to have to bag the whole mess, probably fish the cans out because they’re the only things in the bin that are actually recyclable. It’s going to take more time to actually clean this up properly than it took to hurl it all in there in the first place. 

But it worth it to see Michael laugh, to see him have somewhere to sink his anger and find catharsis other than throwing things that might actually damage shit in the junk yard. And even that was better than the locked-down, tightly-coiled version of himself that Michael has become over the last few weeks, as the best thought they’d had to save Max hadn’t worked, and his brother’s body had gone back in the pod while they’d all gone back to the drawing board.

Michael leans back against the work table, laughing to hard that tiny tears are starting to form in his eyes. He wipes them away as the laughter subsides.

Alex steps up between his legs, waits until Michael meets his eyes.

He leans in, meets Michael’s lips with his and kisses him deeply, searching and soulful. 

Michael tilts his head into the kiss with a pleaser little noise, licks up into Alex’s mouth because he knows that will end with Alex’s hand in his hair, end with the gentle tugs on Michael’s curls that will let him sink into a contented headspace, get him to eventually remember that he can ask for what he needs, not have to go it alone.

Alex kisses him until Michael has melted into him, has pulled them together from waist to shoulder, until the tension bleeds from the muscles in his back.

Alex pulls away, rests his forehead against Michael’s. 

“Feel Better?” He asks, echoing his earlier question.

This time, Michael smiles soft and fond.

“Little bit,” he says, tilting his chin up for another kiss. Alex meets him there, kissing him long and gentle in the breeze.


End file.
